


In the Chapel in the Moonlight

by PinkGerberDaisies



Series: Quebecois Royals AU [3]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: A little bit of happiness to brighten our days, Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Impromptu promises brought on by Roman night skies, Marriage, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23903320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkGerberDaisies/pseuds/PinkGerberDaisies
Summary: Scott and Tessa return to Rome three years after meeting there for the first time.A one-shot set in the When in Rome/Quebecois Royals universe.
Relationships: Scott Moir/Tessa Virtue
Series: Quebecois Royals AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1377019
Comments: 46
Kudos: 118





	In the Chapel in the Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> How I'd love to hear the organ  
In the chapel in the moonlight  
While we're strolling down the aisle  
Where roses entwine
> 
> How I'd love to hear you whisper  
In the chapel in the moonlight  
That the love light in your eyes  
Forever will shine
> 
> 'Til the roses turn to ashes  
'Til the organ turns to rust  
If you never come I'll still be there  
'Til the moonlight turns to dust
> 
> How I'd love to hear the choir  
In the chapel in the moonlight  
As they sing "Oh Promise Me"  
Forever be mine
> 
> \- Dean Martin

** In the Chapel in the Moonlight **

Scott loves twilight in Rome. As beautiful as the city can be during the day, and as mysterious as it can be at night, there’s something truly magical about that elusive in-between. When the sun has sunk low behind the horizon, but there’s still enough residual light to cast a glow on the rooftops. Lights from the houses and restaurants and city lamps steadily growing brighter, making the cobblestones shine, while the River Tiber flows steadily past them all on to the sea, serving as one long mirror.

Anything can happen during twilight.

There’s a gentle breeze this evening, carrying with it the familiar scents of blossoming spring flowers, spices from nearby trattorias and osterias, and the sounds of laughter and chatter that will continue long into the Italian night. And Scott stops along the Ponte Cestio bridge to breathe it all in, gently squeezing the fingers laced together with his own.

“I’m so full,” Tessa mumbles by his side, patting her flat stomach and making him laugh, “That was the best rigatoni carbonara I’ve ever eaten. We have to dine at Trattoria Sora Lella again before we leave.”

“I don’t know why other countries even bother trying to make Italian food. Nothing compares to the real thing. That gelato we had for dessert?” He lifts his fingers to his mouth and kisses them. “Perfection.”

“Stop,” She groans, leaning against the stone wall and tilting her head back, “Or I might never let us leave.”

With her neck extended like that the lights surrounding them hit the curves just right, and Scott can’t resist stepping in closer and pressing his lips underneath her jaw – relishing the little half-laugh, half-moan that comes out of her mouth.

“You’ll get no argument from me,” He murmurs into her skin, lifting one hand to her hip and pulling her in close. They’re terribly exposed, standing there in the middle of the bridge as they are, but for once in their relationship he doesn’t care. Rome is the city for lovers, and he intends to take full advantage of that.

Tessa pulls his face away from her shoulder, where he’d been pressing kisses all along her collarbone and teasing the thin strap of her dress, and brings his mouth up to meet hers – giving him a searing kiss. It’s bold, especially for her, but Scott happily returns it, wrapping both his arms around her waist and stepping in between her legs to press their bodies together.

“We’re only halfway through our trip,” Tessa gasps once they’ve broken apart to catch their breaths, reminding him that they were in the middle of a conversation. (How she always manages to keep track of these things, he’ll never know. Kissing her always seems to knock every coherent thought out of his head.) “We can’t end our grand journey around the world – the trip I spent three months planning, I might remind you – before we’ve even made it to Petra.”

Scott laughs and kisses the corner of her mouth. “Oh yeah. Indiana Jones – how could I forget?”

“Especially since you’re the one who insisted you had to live out that fantasy and cast me in the role of Elsa Schneider, which I am _still _not happy about, by the way.” She jabs his chest, pushing him away from her and frowning, “I don’t want to be an evil Nazi who sleeps with both Sean Connery and his son. It’s messed up. Why can’t I be Marion Ravenwood?”

“She wasn’t in _The Last Crusade_, T,” He reminds her, stepping back completely and taking her hand again before they continue walking across the bridge, “It wouldn’t be accurate.”

With a kiss like that, they should probably try to make it back to their AirBnB sooner rather than later. Although he’s not sure how he’s going to wait even that long. Most of the blood in his brain has already relocated south, making walking less than comfortable.

He’d always assumed that love would cool as time went on. Not become less powerful or less meaningful, just less… passionate. Surely the thrill of those first early days couldn’t be maintained forever – every day life would get in the way and bring things down to a more natural, if somewhat mundane, level.

But his relationship with Tessa hasn’t been like that. Over the past three years, despite the ups and downs, the difficulties and growing pains, and their momentary split at the end of the summer back in 2011 (he still doesn’t like to think about that dark time) - there hasn’t been a single moment when he didn’t want her. Didn’t _love _her with a strength of feeling so overwhelming sometimes he thinks it might consume him.

“Nothing about those movies is accurate,” She continues, her wavy ponytail bouncing as she shakes her head and the hoop earrings she’s begun to favor lately swinging lightly from side to side. “They’re fun to watch, but that’s about it.”

“You take that back!” He tugs on her hand in mock outrage, spinning her around to face him and walking her backwards until she’s pressed into the trunk of one of the trees that lines the river walkway.

“When you made me marathon all those movies with you last summer it was an elaborate ploy to get me to roleplay with you, wasn’t it?” She smirks at him, playfully cocking her head and tapping her index finger against the tip of his nose. “You really _did _want me to buy you that hat for Christmas.”

“Everyone has their fantasies, _Miss Stockton_, don’t mock me for mine.” He winks at her, grinning when she blushes at the memory and swooping in for a quick kiss before tugging her back down the sidewalk.

He’d been surprised to discover when they’d first started dating that her love of Audrey Hepburn movies carried over into the bedroom, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain. Tessa likes to dress up in pretty clothes, and he likes to be the one to undress her.

It’s win/win, really.

They wander past all the little Fiats and tiny smart cars parked along the side of the road, barely moving five feet at a time before stopping to kiss each other again. He feels drunk off wine and drunk off her. Although he’s not sure which is more potent.

(It's her. It's always her.) 

In the distance he spots a brown stone tower, the cross at the top and the levels of three-arched windows immediately recognizable, and a crazy idea pops into his head. “Let’s go this way.”

“Across the Ponte Palatino?” She hesitates, but still allows him to guide her across the bridge, and Scott nods. “But this is the wrong way.”

“No it’s not, it’s just a detour. Do you trust me?”

Her reply is immediate, and Scott beams with the confidence it gives him. “Of course.”

“Come on, then. You’re gonna love this.”

He takes her across the bridge, through a public garden with ancient columns and past the beautiful Fountain of the Tritons, until at last they’re standing across from the church.

Scott takes her by the shoulders and comes up to stand behind her, pointing at the building in front of them. “Do you recognize it?”

“Santa Maria in Cosmedin,” She breathes, her eyes going wide, “The mouth of truth.”

“That’s right!” He grins and tugs her across the street. There aren’t many people out and about – most either having dinner or resting in their homes – but he double checks anyway to make sure there aren’t any cars and that no one is around to see them. “Remember when I brought you here three years ago?”

“How could I forget? You pretended to get your hand cut off and made me scream.” She shoots him a look and he laughs, running his fingers up her side and making her giggle and squirm.

“You deserved it. You really _were _lying to me, I just didn’t know it at the time.”

A guilty look flashes across her face, even though they moved past this long ago, and Scott instantly reaches for her – folding her into his embrace and pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

“To this day it’s the best lie I’ve ever been told.” She snorts, disbelieving, but he holds her tighter. “I’m serious. If you hadn’t lied about your last name I might never have dared to ask you to spend the day with me, let alone go to Signor Bianchi’s party and, well, you know – the stuff that happened after. Smith or Virtue, that day with _Tessa _will always be one of the best days of my life.”

“Yeah?” She asks softly, peering up at him, and he takes the opportunity to kiss her.

“Yeah.”

She smiles and for a moment he allows himself to get lost in her eyes, to disappear in the feeling of her arms wrapped around him and her heart beating against his own, but then somewhere in the distance someone honks their horn and he remembers why he brought her here.

“Let’s go inside.”

“Scott!” She stands up straight, the dreamy, happy look on her face replaced by one of shock. “We can’t! It’s been closed for hours.”

“So?” He smirks mischievously, walking up to the gate and looking it over for weaknesses. The lock is pretty heavy duty. Maybe if Luca were with them he’d have a way to break it, but Scott doesn’t really feel like calling his friend right now and a broken lock might look too conspicuous to anyone who passes by.

“We can’t break into a public landmark. I don’t have diplomatic immunity anymore,” She reminds him with a stern frown, and then it’s Scott’s turn to feel momentarily guilty.

Despite their many, _many_, long conversations about the subject, he still hasn’t quite adjusted to the idea that she’d given up her royal title for him. _For him_ – Scott Moir from tiny Ilderton, Ontario. It still doesn’t seem right.

“Stop,” Tessa commands suddenly, as if reading his mind, “It’s done and it’s what I wanted. I didn't do it for you, I did it for _us._ And now we’re here, traveling the world together. We wouldn’t get to do that if I still had to attend afternoon tea with the prime minister’s wife. It was my choice and I’d much rather be doing this, so stop.”

He nods, shrugging off the creeping worry that she might one day regret her decision, and points back at the fence. “We’re going to have to climb it. Do you think you can manage in your dress?”

“It’s lightweight and knee-length,” She nods, “But I don’t think we should be doing this.”

“It’ll be an adventure. Come on, I’ll give you a boost.” He locks his fingers together and crouches down so that she can put her foot in it, and then once she gives him the signal he helps hoist her up high – watching closely for any signs she might fall while she clambers over the iron grating.

Tessa drops down on the other side somewhat clumsily, but looks back at him with a proud grin and two thumbs up, and so Scott quickly follows. Scrambling after her and dropping down with only slightly more grace.

“What now, John Robie?” She finds his hand again and gestures towards the wooden door of the church, and Scott looks back at her curiously, waiting for her to explain the reference. “It’s from _How to Catch a Thief _– it’s a Cary Grant movie. We’ll watch it when we get back to the room tonight, you’ll like it.”

“I kind of have other plans for our hotel room tonight,” He slides his free hand across her waist and down to grab her ass, capturing her surprised moan with his mouth, “But _after_, sure.”

“Assuming we don’t get arrested.” 

“Well, yeah, obviously.”

It’s a long shot, but he walks up to the door and tries the handle, fully expecting it to be locked as well and letting out a gasp of surprise when it gives way easily. Swinging open to reveal the dark interior of the 1300-year-old basilica.

“I can’t believe that worked.” Tessa walks past him and Scott makes sure to close the door before anyone notices it swinging open and catches them.

“Why are you whispering?” He asks, dropping his voice low to match hers, and Tessa blushes and shrugs.

“It’s a church, I don’t know. Aren’t you supposed to whisper?”

“I don’t think it matters when you’re the only one here,” Scott replies. He doesn’t change his volume though. She’s right, it does feel more appropriate to talk quietly in here. Without any other guests there’s nothing to stop their voices from echoing on the cold stone walls and reverberating all the way up to the high wooden-beamed ceiling.

The only light in the church comes from the small open windows at the very top of the walls, cutting the moonlight into beams of white light that cast long shadows across the various elaborate geometric patterns in the tile floor - each section made up of different maroon, green, orange, and white pieces and carefully laid out in varying shapes. There are a few flickering candles that remain lit on the small alters throughout the room, but they’re only bright enough to highlight their red metal holders.

“We never really spent much time in here before. It’s beautiful.” Tessa walks over to one of the marble columns, running her fingers along its rough surface, and gazes up at the intricate carvings at the top.

“Yeah, it is.” He nods, even though her back is to him, and reaches for the cross around his neck – slipping his fingers through the buttons of his shirt to touch the warm metal where it rests against his skin. He wears it more to honor his parents’ beliefs than out of any religious conviction of his own, but he still really hopes he didn’t just commit a grievous sin by hopping that fence. 

“What’s – oh my god is that a _human skull_?” Tessa’s voice raises in alarm as she looks back at him, her mouth dropping open in horror, and Scott shakes himself out of his moral quandary and fear for his eternal soul and laughs. Walking over to her and throwing an arm around her shoulders.

“That’s the skull of Saint Valentine.”

“_The _Saint Valentine?” She asks, leaning in close to the glass to get a better look. “As in holiday cards and a dozen red roses and boxes of chocolate?”

“I think his message was probably a little less commercialized at the time,” Scott laughs, “But yeah. That’s the guy.”

Tessa scrunches up her nose, standing up straight again and shaking her head. “How morbid.”

“I think it’s romantic,” He teases, gesturing broadly to the skull and the painting of Saint Valentine mounted on the wall above it, “You and me, here in the church with the decaying head of the man literally synonymous with love.”

She shoves his chest. “Gross, Scott. Don’t say it like that.”

Scott reaches for her and reels her back in, looping both of his arms low around her waist and linking his fingers together behind her back, slowly swaying her back and forth in a shoddy resemblance of a dance. “Come on, T, it’s like he’s blessing our union.”

“Our union?” She arches her eyebrow, her voice dripping with sarcasm, and he opens his mouth to continue teasing her when another idea pops into his head instead.

A much, much better idea.

“Yeah,” He nods solemnly, bumping her nose with his and smiling softly so that she knows he’s no longer joking around, “Our union. Marry me.”

That takes her by surprise.

Tessa’s head rears backwards as she tries to get a proper look at him, her eyebrows shooting towards her hairline as her jaw drops to the floor. “What?!”

“Marry me,” Scott says again, grinning from ear to ear this time and stealing a quick kiss, “Here. Now.”

“You can’t be serious.”

_Oh, but he is_. He’s known for a long time now that Tessa is the girl he wants to marry. Probably knew it in his heart before he ever had the actual, conscious thought in his head. He’s even had a dream before where he’d proposed to her in the middle of an ice rink, of all places. “I’ve never been more serious in my life. You’re already wearing a dress, I’m wearing a button-down, it’s perfect.”

“It’s a summer dress and it’s pale green!” She gapes at him, clearly still struggling to process his words and decide if this is another one of his jokes, and she looks so cute staring at him all wide-eyed and disbelieving that – naturally – Scott jumps at the chance to tease her.

“Tess, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but technically you stopped being eligible to wear white the day after we met.” She slugs his shoulder and Scott laughs, pretending to rub at the spot even though she couldn’t hurt a fly. “Honestly though, will you marry me?”

“Are you genuinely asking me?” She squints at him, her hands coming up to fiddle with the collar of his shirt. “Like, totally sober, wholeheartedly, earnestly asking me to marry you?”

“Well, I don’t know if I can say _totally _sober,” He replies honestly, thinking of the full bottle of wine they'd drunk at dinner, and she swats his arm again with a huff, “But yes. I’d give you a ring but it’s back at the AirBnB.”

“_What_?”

Oops. He hadn’t meant to let that slip. Mostly because it’s a little embarrassing how long he’s been thinking about this. “Grandpa Mac gave me grandma’s ring when we visited last September for my birthday. I’ve been carrying it around with me ever since, waiting for the right moment.”

At the time, when his favorite grandfather had taken him for a walk out into the fields and handed him the ring – making a grand speech about love and commitment and marriage and hard work – Scott hadn’t been ready. It had all seemed overwhelming, especially because Tessa had dropped the bomb only the day before that she was considering stepping away from her royal duties and he'd been a mess of conflicted emotions over that.

Were they too young? Too immature? Too mismatched?

But then that night Tessa had crawled into bed beside him in that upstairs bedroom at his parents’ house, dressed in her favorite pair of matching pink striped pajamas, and promptly stuck her cold toes underneath his leg – laughing when he’d tried to protest – and he’d known.

Maybe it wasn’t the most romantic of moments to have such a grand realization, but it was the one that made him realize he didn’t want to share those little intimacies with anyone else. No matter what she decided, princess or commoner, he wanted to be her partner through it all.

“You’ve had a ring for nine months and _now _is the right moment? Here, with a dead man’s skull?” Tessa deadpans, but he can see from the look in her eyes that she’s putting on a front. He can feel her bouncing on her toes, her fingers fidgeting with his buttons, the crack in her voice. She’s so nervous and excited and _happy_ she’s practically buzzing.

“Well I certainly hope it isn’t a _live _man’s skull. Although, that is one way to get ahead of yourself.” He taps his chin, pretending to ponder the idea, and Tessa predictably laughs at his pun.

“Scott, come on!”

“Seriously, Tessa. Here –“ He takes her hands and moves them both away from the skull and back to the middle of the chapel. Losing his breath for a moment when the moonlight hits her just right and turns her green eyes practically iridescent. “All joking aside, I love you. I love you more today than I did yesterday, and I loved you more yesterday than I did when I first got the ring, and I loved you that day more than three years ago when we stood only a few feet away from this exact same spot and promised each other the truth.” He tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear, trailing his fingers down her jaw and caressing her bottom lip with his thumb. “I promise I’m telling the truth again. Here, now, and always, I want nothing more than to be with you. Is that what you want?”

She mimics his caress, cupping his jaw in her small hand and tracing the shell of his ear before leaning forward slightly to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Yes,” She breathes against him, “Yes, that’s what I want. But there’s no one here to officiate. Or act as witnesses.”

"Do you want to marry me?"

"Yes," She replies firmly.

"Then that's all we need. We can worry about the legal stuff later. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Tessa Virtue.”

“And I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Scott Moir.”

Those simple words fill him with more joy than he’s ever felt in his whole life. More than when she’d accepted his offer to tour Rome, more than when she’d spent the night, more than when he’d gotten her letter in the mail telling him she loved him, more than their reunion in Montreal. It’s the joy from every day of the last three years all rolled together into one expansive feeling that has his heart dancing the samba while fireworks go off inside his brain.

“I told Rosa once that not everyone could find true love as quickly as she did, but that wasn’t true. I knew I loved you within twenty-four hours of meeting you and she knew it. ‘Love is worth the risk, Scott,’ she told me, ‘It’s life’s greatest gift, to love and be loved, and when you find it you have to cherish it.” He takes her hands, bringing both of them up to his lips to tenderly kiss her knuckles. “I want to cherish you forever, if you’ll let me.”

“I never thought I’d have this,” Tessa murmurs back, staring at their clasped hands and carefully choosing her words, “Growing up, I always dreamed of falling in love, but in an abstract kind of way. It never felt _real_. That life, those choices, seemed barred to me because of who I was – the family I’d been born into. I had resigned myself to a life of superficiality, of… loneliness, but then you came along. Happy and cheerful and free and so, so _good_. You showed me a whole new way of living. My heart is yours, Scott, and it always will be.”

Tears prick the back of his eyelids, and Tessa giggles softly when he tries to surreptitiously wipe them away and fails. Ruining the attempt with a loud sniffle. He’s not embarrassed though, because she’s got tears in her eyes, too, and he can’t resist kissing her forehead even though technically they haven’t gotten to that part yet.

“So you take me as your husband for as long as we both shall live?”

“I do. Do you take me as your wife for as long as we both shall live?”

“I do.”

She beams up at him, and he takes it back – _this _is the most joy he’s ever felt in his life. “Then I think this is the part where we get to seal our vows with a kiss.”

“Works for me.”

He kisses her then, scooping her up into a tight embrace so that they’re pressed together from their knees to their chests, relishing how perfectly their bodies form to each other. It’s always been like this. This ease. This sense of certainty. Only now it’s official.

Sure, they might not have a priest or the usual attire or the paper to prove it, but he knows, and she knows, and the promise they’ve made here – here in this chapel in the moonlight – is as real and as binding as any promise ever could be.

~ _la_ _fine_ ~

**Author's Note:**

> Hoping you all are staying safe, sane, and healthy in this difficult time. Sending everyone my love and fondest thoughts.


End file.
